heat
by Chocpen
Summary: highschool au thing i guess. clark and bruce have the hots for each other and also it's really hot jfc. rated M for future stuff.
1. fever

puberty seem to take a hold on them, both Clark and Bruce, and it held on tight. so tight it felt like Bruce couldn't breathe. the heat didn't help either.

summer seemed to pass over the first few months of school, and Bruce predicted a winter vacation soon afterward. he wished it would come soon, since the pulsing heat pressed against his pent-up urges and the sleepless nights sitting by the phone, Clark's voice vibrated against his ear, laughs and mutters shared; only the icy cold wind produced through winter season could cool him down.

and the constant alarm ringing in his ear every morning didn't help much either. not that Clark had to deal with that, Bruce having to jog down to his house every morning to wake him up and all.

Bruce waves to Ma Kent, who cordially does the same. summer must be nice for the farmer's wife, Bruce assumes. mating season must be crazy. not just with the animals either, Bruce dares to say; too wussy to spit out.

he knocks on the door. once. twice. five more times. there's a clutter; crash inside. "rise and shine,"Bruce calls, hand gripped on the doorknob. he hears the sheets rustle, the drawers fly open and there's tumbles and thuds. "mornin' mornin',"Clark greets from inside, voice shaky.

"you overslept, didn't you?" there's a silence and then another thud. "n-no." "god, you're bad at lying." click, the door opens and Bruce backs up, a bit startled.

"maybe i'd have more time to sleep if you didn't keep texting me. honestly, how DO you stay up till twelve and wake up six on the dot all fresh and clean like that?" Bruce only half-listens, his eyes wander from Clark's messy room to Clark; still in his boxers and chest bare, heaving as he breathes and Bruce holds himself back to spread his hand over it. "discipline,"he mumbles.

then it comes. Clark suddenly leans in, most probably wanting to chuckle or mutter something rude he wont want his Ma to hear, but Bruce jumps and steps a bit too far; grabbing the doorknob and BAM; door shut.

he's sweating. he's fucking sweating. he's seen Clark shirtless a million times before but now. now the space was small between them, details more defined by morning light and the heat. the fucking heat. "Bruce? You okay?" breathe, he says to himself. breathe.

"get dressed, Supey,"Bruce barks and leans against the wall. "you're late."

he is, that's a fact. they're both running now -well, not RUNNING, more like jogging really. want to be quick but still want to make time to chat. even if it was simple chatter; Clark liked it and Bruce is stubborn to admit he liked it too.

"aren't you going uptown today?"Clark straightens his tie. "yea, so?"Bruce pulls his hands out of his pockets, pulling on Clark's sleeve to direct him this way. "then why are you hanging with me now? shouldn't you pack your stuff, or could it be,"he leans a little, pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "that you really wanted to see me?" Bruce scoffs, hand rustles the farmer's son's hair. "in your dreams, ET."

Diana does the same by the school gates, and Clark groans. "you're late." "yea, i know,"he glances at Bruce who wavers a little. should he leave? probably..no? yea? he's moving along anyway.

"see you later, Bruce,"Clark calls and so they wave and once he's out of sight, he presses his hand on his forehead. it's hot. fuck this heat. in the ass.

"your wife seems jumpy,"Diana teases, finger pokes his shoulder as they walk up the stairs. "you're such a bad husband. honestly." Clark throws a smirk. "real funny; but true. i don't know what's up with him,"Clark wipes his forehead with his thumb. "it's been getting real hot lately. maybe he has a fever."


	2. blush

school is depressing, Clark concludes. the teacher drones on about something, but Clark doesn't really care. he just rests his chin in his palm, leans a bit and the desk is rocky. it's quite strange, this sudden dislike of school, he figures. Bruce really hasn't rubbed off on him, has he? "he hasn't rubbed me in anyway. wish he did though,"he mutters, but he catches himself and clasps his hand over his mouth. please God let no one hear that.

time seems to go by quickly, Clark notices, since in a split second he's on the top floor and looking over the ledge. "Clark's late,"he mumbles, "weird." he leans back, hands gripped on the ledge. "he's usually a lot earlier. maybe he IS sick,"he mumbles to himself, but even Diana can hear it.

"geez, don't you think you should cut your wife some slack? it's only been an hour and you're acting like he's gone total MIA. he's just running late, calm down,"she pats his back but he's still suspicious.

was it what happened that morning? Clark didn't know what exactly happened. maybe, just maybe he thought for a split-second he could just lean in and kiss Bruce on the cheek with it being a normal, casual thing to do between them.

but no, BAM it went back into reality and Clark never felt so dumb in his life. it must be the heat, he thinks. totally the heat.

"hey." ah, there he is. standing on the sidewalk and the book is next to his face for shade, that charming frown plastered on his face. "you better not be smoking up there. seriously; i'll drop you in a heartbeat,"he barks in that rusty voice he gets after training (mainly fencing, or better yet shooting practice -Clark likes the uniform.) "what? you know i don't smoke,"Clark catches the death glare Selina casts, cigarette wedged between her fingers.

"come here Brucie!"Clark calls, hand waves, "i got something to show you." that's a lie, but Bruce pulls that smile that Clark likes. the one that says 'dumbass'. "hell no,"he grunts, "i might catch a STD from Kyle-" "-alright Wayne,"Selina slams her hand down on the ledge, Clark doesn't budge. "you wanna fight? let's go. NOW."

Bruce chuckles, and Selina can see from askance the way Clark smiles, cheek cupped. "c'mon Supey, i don't want your Ma giving me a big old speech about the importance of 'the family business' again." Clark immediately turns to Selina and Diana and says his goodbyes, snickers at the groans from Selina as he leaves.

"i can't believe he follows that jerk around like that," she mutters. "like a lost puppy." Diana just shrugs and leans over to her side, voice a whisper. "more like a lovestruck teen over a popstar. did you see that blush? this heat really is something."

"you were late,"Clark pouts and Bruce rolls his eyes. "i was worried." he stops in his tracks for a split second but soon strides, heart a thud against his ribs. "i just had to finish some business,"he rolls off his tongue like he practiced it. "without me? what ARE you hiding?" Bruce presses his lips tight.

"my feelings. my great want- no NEED to smack my lips onto yours. my thoughts of running my hands up and down your chest. the fact i keep the valentine's card you gave me in second grade when you thought no one would." but he says none of these things. no,

"none of your beeswax,"is what he says instead and Clark frowns. "you've been acting weird,"Clark kicks the ground, they turn a corner. "is it,"the next part gets stuck in his throat, but he spats it out, he feels like goop, "a crush maybe?"

Bruce doesn't say anything. he refuses to, but it's Clark who won't shut it. "ah! so it is! who is she?"he feels his head ache. he knew Bruce was a heartbreaker. girls lined up from left to right and all had a history of Wayne romance as long as their hair length. but something about this mystery girl who caused Bruce to push him away and arrive late didn't rub Clark the right way.

"is she someone i know? she IS isn't she? you're making that face-" "-she's NO one. can we drop this, please?"his rusty voice booms, almost breaks. Clark shuts his mouth, but feels a bit nauseous. it's the heat. totally the heat. right? right. right...


	3. invite

Ma Kent never disappoints. her pies are still the best in town. Bruce has known this for the past six years he's visited her, but he almost always is amazed by the tingled taste of sweet apple pie on his tongue. he wondered if her son tasted just as good. then he mentally slapped himself.

"what're you still doing here?"Clark furrows his brow, hurriedly making his way through the kitchen but stops and looks over at Bruce. "it's almost,"he glances at the novelty chicken clock, "five! shouldn't you be at home working on your research?"Clark asks, and is honest with his concern.

Bruce doesn't like it, though, drops his book and places his fork down. "oh,"he makes that frown that Clark doesn't particarly like, but must admit is cute, "i didn't know you wanted me to leave so badly." and he wavers a bit, getting up, but very slowly and so Clark quickly stops him, hands waving and he fidgets. he leaves with a sigh and Bruce feels a bit triumphant, taking a glimpse of Clark's shirt clinging to his chest as he slips out of the door.

Ma Kent turns to Bruce, hand on shoulder. "when ya gonna tell him?" Bruce feels the piece of pie get caught in his throat, share a glance with the farmer's wife. did she know? he panicked. of course she knew. this country woman is as slick as her pies are mouth watering-worthy. fucking great. fan-fucking-tastic. "i mean,"she pushes the chair back, "your big trip is only two months away."

oh.

OH.

ooooooooooh.

she was talking about his trip to Bangladesh. of course. duh. "how do you know about my big trip?"he asks first, but she gives him the 'i asked you first look', but it fades. "me and Alfred don't just talk about recipes, y'know,"she leans, "and you best watch out; that old guy sure blabs a lot." Bruce brushes his hair back with his hand, sighs. "i don't know when to tell him,"he mutters, and feels a bit of deja vu. "he hates it when i take these big trips."

Clark really did. especially when he'd go out shopping and when he passed the hair product section, and all the fumes reminded him of Bruce and he'd look like such a nut job going around smelling shampoo bottles mumbling 'Brucie' with a look of utter content. he never told Bruce, though.

"i'll be gone for three months,"he rubs his temple with his forefinger. "i'll never hear the end of it." Ma Kent leans back in her chair, thinking. "maybe you should tell him when he's distracted,"she casts a look to the side, fingers drumming the table, "with work such as, uh, i don't know- farm work?"

Bruce gets up after a minute of consideration and Ma collects the plate and fork and hurries to the sink.

he turns the corner, calls for Clark and hears his reply in the distance. he's probably taking care of Betsy, the baby lamb. and ah, there he sits, Betsy's head cradled on his knees. "hey, i got something to tell you,"Bruce's fingers fidget, clasps over the back of his neck. "hm?" both Clark and the little lamb look up to Wayne and he feels a sense of similiarity. fuck

"you see, uh,"he gets his words stuck; jaw stiff. Clark makes that grin and Bruce remembers all the frowns and huffs and scoffs the farm boy made when he came home from Paris, Mulan, Tokyo, etc. he didn't like being snubbed by Clark, missing those countless late night calls and texts and teases and pokes. and so he backs out, because he really didn't want to ruin this moment of peace.

"can you come over to my place this weekend?"he looks away, but he catches the humored face Clark pulls. "of course, Brucie." and his heart tugs. the heat sucks ass.


	4. hesitant

the week passed like minutes; each day as tedious as the last. school was coming to a close and the teachers and students shared the mutual dislike of each other's presence. not that Bruce and Clark had that same to and fro.

Clark has been to Bruce's house a zillion times in the years they've known each other, so it wasn't weird for him to have a key, right? Bruce gave it to him about a year ago. "Alfred is sick of constantly unlocking all the locks and such for you,"is his excuse, but Clark must be honest that he was a tiny bit sure that only couples gave each other keys. but Bruce obviously didn't think that way. right?

so when he unlocked the door and just casually threw his bag down and took off his coat he didn't even bother to make Alfred aware. what could the old man be doing, anyway? "Brucie,"Clark calls, and Bruce replies, voice leading up the staircase. Clark always forgets how huge this house actually is, the added heat does not make him the least bit cheery when he walks in, Bruce at his desk. "hey there sunshine,"Bruce greets, Clark falls into his cool mattress, groans. the bed sheets are freshly cleaned.

"get an elevator,"Clark mutters into the pillow. Bruce turns in his seat, arms folded. "i thought you had super alien powers,"head tilted, "or are you just lazy?" Clark rolls over, face crumpled. "yes and yes. get an elevator." Bruce smirks, the one Clark likes.

"what're you planning over there?"Clark sits up, eyes wander. "nothing,"Bruce turns back, hunched over the papers. "oh, nuh-uh,"Clark gets up and Bruce finds his sudden energetic curiosity strange and annoying. he walks over to his desk, looks over Bruce's attempts of hiding it under his arms. nice arms, Clark noted. "it's something alright. is it,"he feels like goop again, "for your crush?"

Bruce pulls a face, folds the papers under his palm. "what is with all this crush bullshit? if i didn't know any better, i think you're the one with a crush," Bruce's words bite and Clark didn't appreciate it. "what makes you think THAT? i'm not the one acting weird lately,"Clark walks back to the bed, feeling hot again and Bruce scoffs.

"riiiiight,"he brushes his hair with his fingers, "because i'm the one that smells like cheap cologne." Clark blushes at that, head turns sharp toward the city boy. "you've been showering more, too. even put on a decent shirt and pair of shoes." Clark can't deny any of these things, and even if he tried the words got stuck in his throat. fuck.

"it looks to me you're going to a date after this,"Bruce mouth feels bitter when he says the next part, "with Lois, right?" Clark almost laughs, a few chuckles escape. "oh PLEASE, Bruce. i haven't been on a date with her in like, two years,"he glances to the side, "since she's so busy in boarding school with a bunch of posh rich dudes."

Bruce pulls that funny little smirk that meant trouble, but Clark liked it nonetheless. "posh rich dudes like me?" Clark smiles wide, sits up with a smug look. "yeah,"he says playfully, "you guys suck." Bruce gets up from his desk and makes his way to the matress, pulls the face that has fuck you all over it.

"oh yea?"he climbs, the bed creaks. "well at least i've got a car, actual clothes and oral hygiene." wish you'd give me oral, Clark thinks, won't say aloud for a million bucks. "AND i can beat your ass." that's when Clark takes the hint, pushes him back and game face locked. they tumble over the sheets, wrestling -no, playing actually. fists friendly and fingers locked and knees knocked. they laugh, almost giggle, inbetween.

it's when Bruce pins Clark down that they stop. their faces are red and they're panting, palms sweaty. Bruce is sitting on Clark's groin as he grips his arms down. it felt like, just for a split second, there was this sudden telepathic agreement between them. like for one simple moment it could have gone the way they both wanted it. they could kiss, grope each other and go much further or just roll up and cuddle and hold each other until the sun goes down. for a second their feelings were out there in the open and mutual and it was just so. so.

Bruce leans in, eyes half lidded and his hands smooth over Clark's, and for that moment they were both sure that would be the end of their friendship, and they'd mutter "thank god" if it would fit the context well. but Bruce's phone rings, and so the moment ends and they both get up, their friendship barge in and it's not awkward, really, but just forgotten. in the vault. never to be spoken of again. fucking great.

"yeah?"Bruce mumbles against the phone, Clark smooths his shirt. "no, i don't think i need it by then," he straightens his collar, Clark swings his legs off the bed. "alright, that's all then?" he looks around the room and decides to sneak to the desk, hoping that Bruce was too distracted.

but his attempts are ruined when Bruce kicks him from the bed, distance just right and hangs up the phone. "why are you so goddamn nosy?"Bruce frowns. not a charming frown, either. "i just want to read the love poems for that crush of yours,"Clark's words are loose and sour as he says them. he doesn't like feeling like goop. "or are you too embarrassed? can't blame you, you DID do poorly on your English literacy-" "-that was in fourth grade."

Clark smirks and Bruce gets up, hand brushes over Clark's shoulder as he walks over. he wanted to hold on, though. "and as if YOU can write a love poem better than me,"he shuffles the papers under the folder. the conversation fades, they look at each other and there's this odd feeling. Bruce doesn't know why, but he half expected Clark to declare his love in a form of poetic words and they'd fall in bed again, much affectionate than before. and Clark, despite Bruce's flustered fantasy, wanted to do the exact thing. but somehow, they both share a hesitant sense.

"so,"Clark starts, Bruce is grateful, "this heat is something, yeah?"


	5. rsvp

Bruce didn't know what he was thinking. he was going to visit the last girl he wanted to make any eye contact with. he knocks once, twice and she answers, door only ajar. "who is it?"she has a slight glare, but it soon vanishes when she catches a glimpse of him. "Bruce! i haven't seen you in AGES,"she waves her hand, voice loose and he admits sounds plastic. "calm down Lois, it's just me."

she makes him wait and he hears a couple of thuds. she lets him in in a matter of minutes, he doesn't appreciate the state her room is in. "so,"she flips her hair over her shoulder, "what do you need?" Bruce doesn't answer her; not yet. "has Clark called you at all?" she pulls a face, not at all too pleased. "no, i think he's moved on,"she mumbles the next part and casts a teasing look, "probably onto you, i gather." Bruce feels like he's choking, hand grips shirt. "w-what?"

"oh please, Wayne,"she walks around the counter and takes a glass. "i've dated him for three years but i'm 100% sure i wasn't the only one,"she glances at him as she pours the milk, "we don't call you his wife for nothing, y'know. not to mention i caught you staring at his ass like, a million times." Bruce feels light headed, hand searching for the counter top, or just anything more stable than he is. "so - so you knew?" she rolls her eyes and pulls a smile. "uh, DUH."

there's a silence, if you didn't count Lois's humming as she turned around to him, elbowing his chest. "c'mon, Wayne. i won't tell big ol' country Kent that his best bud has the total hots for him. not until you do, anyway." she sits down on the couch draped in dirty laundry. Bruce shakes his head and decides to forget it. in the vault. he rubs his temple and fuck it's hot.

"so, like i asked; what do you need?" he presses his lips tight, looks over her as she sips her milk, a small mustache left behind as she looks up at him. but he sighs and so takes his seat next to her. "i need to know if you're available next weekend." she looks to the side, but then looks back at him immediately and nods. "great; because i'm inviting you to my party."

Clark was never a big fan of parties, he must admit. not the ones that had little to no music, or had food much too fancy for his taste. but he made an exception for Bruce. always. "there better be a bouncy house,"he's half serious. Bruce pulls that smile Clark liked a lot. almost his favourite. "oh, so you can bounce around with your date?" Clark elbows him, Bruce chuckles. "seriously? i don't want to hang around a girl all night. fetching her punch or something."

he then looks at Bruce, his question is heavy in his stomach. "oh, and who are you going with?" Bruce is hesitant, glances at Clark. just barely. "i was going to ask,"he stops, mind jumping for an answer. "no one. i'm going solo." Clark is happy by a ton.

"great, we can go together then." Bruce feels his heart drop to his knees. "hey, was this what you were planning, by the way?"Clark realizes, a bit of relief as the mystery girl seemed to vanish. "um, among other things,"he mumbles and Clark hangs his arm around Bruce's shoulders. "why're you so mysterious these days?"

Bruce glares. "and why are you so heavy? - get off. it's too hot."


	6. poem

the word spread quickly. well, Lois was the one that leaked it. "Wayne's holding a party,"she said lounging by the pool. "everyone's invited." the second part was false, Bruce confirmed. not that anyone believed him, though. he decided not to care and focus on his other plans, which he still hasn't told Clark about. maybe that's why he called him. while he was in the bath.

"seriously Clark," Bruce rubs his temple, "it's like, eleven." Clark doesn't take offense and digs in the pile of papers by his side. "don't complain; YOU'RE the one that keeps texting me at like, dawn,"he straightens the page over his thigh. there's a pause on Bruce's end, and he sighs. "okay, fine,"he turns on his side, tight grip on the phone. "but you better hurry up; i don't want to get all wrinkly and pruny."

then Clark stops and thinks about a nude Bruce. a naked Bruce in the bath and he feels his face steam and his hands are clammy. fuck. "uh, yeah um,"he looks down to his paper. right. FOCUS dammit. "what?"Bruce chuckled, a splash in the background, "you change your mind? spit it out." Clark clears his throat, a rush of confidence down his spine.

"i decided to take your challenge,"his voice is firm, Bruce notes. "i wrote a poem. a love poem." Bruce sits up, the water ripples. he doesn't know if he should laugh his ass off or ask HOW and WHY, but either way it got stuck in his throat. there's a silence and Bruce feels awkward. like he's naked. oh wait.

"do you want to hear it?" Bruce nods, shakes his head and then utters a yes into the phone. "i need a good laugh anyway,"he adds and hides his embarrassing delight. he knew the love poem wasn't for him but. "alright then, ahem,"there's a shuffle on his end. paper maybe?

Clark hesitates. "you better not laugh,"he mumbles and he can just hear Bruce's smirk over the phone. "yeah, right." he clears his throat again and oh god, Bruce thinks. "I seem to-" "-oh god-" "-SHUT UP." there's a burst of chuckles between them, and Bruce hides his face in his hands, sits up and the water splashes. "okay, y'know what?"Clark's voice is shaky, "i'm just going to stop."

Bruce collects himself, flicks the water. "sorry, sorry," he means it, "go on; i really want to hear it." he didn't think of you when he wrote it, he reminds himself. probably Lois. yeah. "please, Supey."

Clark folds the corners of the page, gnawing on his lower lip. "this is really embarrassing,"he hides his face in his palm. "yeah." "like, i could just give it to you tomorrow,"he smooths his palm then over his hair. god, i'm dumb, he thinks. "i want to hear it now."

Clark sighs, curses himself when his thumb smudges the ink. just a bit. "you better shut your mouth,"he jokes. "zipped,"Bruce teases, traces his finger along his mouth. "here i go."

"I seem to get all the wrong words at all the right times,"his voice is slick, Bruce detects. he then sinks a bit in the bath and he absorbs what's happening.

this is Clark's raw emotion. Bruce was the one who was naked, but Clark was the one about to be exposed. and Bruce felt a bit...a bit...

"and it feels like, the only time I get to see you," Bruce clasps the phone, a bit more attentive, "is when I don't want to." his heart was POUNDING. thump thump. how embarrassing. he wanted to drown. "yesterday, I saw you walking by; and I tried not to ask you," shit shit shit, "about all the dreams of you I try to hide."

god, that's so corny, Bruce thinks. but he questions why it seemed to twist around him and stick; and he sinks a bit lower, his chin now touching the surface. "what if one day I were to die? would you even blink an eye?" Bruce feels useless, realizing his hand traveling down. he needs to bathe is what he tells himself. but as the words settle on his shoulders he wonders maybe. just maybe this poem wasn't for Lois. maybe...maybe...

"or would you just carry on," his voice was haunted now. "like it was when I was alive?" maybe it was for him. just. JUST maybe. because, if it were for that floosy Lois Lane, he wouldn't feel this way, right? he's known Clark for so long and he looks back on those years. these words..yeah.. "and I can't stand how you take an eternity," Bruce feels hot. but he's run a cold bath. it's not the weather, either, he admits. the heat is coming from himself. he's steaming. it's in the pits of him. maybe his stomach...or even a bit lower. where was his hand?

"to just look back at me." yeah, his hand...and oh OH. "when I'm trying to put my thoughts together." shut your mouth, he thinks. he has to keep quiet, but. breathe, he orders himself. BREATHE.

"hm,"he grunts and Clark pauses. "you alright?" fuck. "y-yeah, keep going,"he huffs, Clark tries not to notice. Bruce sits up, his hand moves rises from the waters. wow, that's a lot of soap.

"i'm starting to think you've ruined me forever," god, this is getting depressing. Bruce held the phone tight. "is this all just a mistake?" Bruce wants to shout NO, but he knows better. his hand smells. ew.

"and I keep wondering how long it will take," here it comes, Bruce thinks. his stomach is churning. "for me to tell you the truth," he turns on his side, holds unto the edge of the bath. calm down, he soothes himself. calm down. "that I,"his voice hacks a bit, Bruce notices. "I love,"his voice cracks a bit, "you."

"that was good,"Bruce says immediately, trying not to take the last statement to heart. he fails, though. shit. "much better than what i can write,"his head is aching, " i bet Lois will love it."

god, Bruce was disgusted. he couldn't look at himself. he got off in the bath while the love of his life was reciting a poem over the phone. how gross is that? he hated himself. he wanted to hear the poem again.

"what? Lois? honestly Bruce," his voice is wobbly, "that poem wasn't for Lois." Bruce pauses, fingers slip over the edge but he catches himself. "then, Clark,"Bruce felt brave, "who was it for?" there's a silence. the water felt icy cold.

Clark didn't know what to say. he just confessed his feelings in the most obscure manner possible and Bruce still hasn't taken the hint. fuck. it's too late now and Clark had to think quick. "i'll tell you if you tell me what you're planning."

Bruce hums. "nope." then they share a moment of pulling faces and although they couldn't see each other they knew very well and so they chuckled. "is this all you wanted to tell me? i mean, i already look like an Alfred copy from staying in here too long, but if-" "-nah, i need to go anyway before Ma barges in to check on me. goodnight, Bruce."

they say their goodbyes, hung up their phones and so Clark goes to bed trying to accept the fact that he just confessed (an indirect confession; but a confession nonetheless) and wasn't sure if he was grateful that Bruce didn't even know or extemely and utterly depressed. and Bruce climbed out the bath and got himself ready for bed and slipped under the covers. he thought about the poem and then remembered the way Clark looked the other morning with his shirt off and well, he'll have to tell Alfred he has a fever tomorrow.


	7. the text

Bruce: i'm staying in today so you should probably get up now.

Clark: brucie it's like , 5.

Bruce: what can i say

Bruce: you're slow

Clark: uh no i'm not

Bruce: oh really?

Clark: oh yes

Clark: i'm already dressed

Clark: [picture sent]

Bruce: your pants are on backwards

Clark: no its not

Bruce: yeah right

Clark: so why are you skipping today?

Bruce: business

Clark: OH yeaaaaah

Clark: "business"

Bruce: am i not allowed to have a few secrets

Clark: no

Clark: not if you know all of mine

Bruce: i don't know all your secrets

Bruce: you still haven't told me who you wrote that poem for

Clark: that's different

Bruce: ?

Clark: because it was for no one

Bruce: riiiiiiiiiight

Bruce: i bet Lois will love it

Clark: oh for god's sake Brucie

Clark: i DO NOT like Lois

Clark: not like THAT anyway. it's over between us.

Clark: why do you always just assume...

Bruce: because she was your first girlfriend

Bruce: and i know you loved her

Clark: i only liked her, not love.

Bruce: right whatever

Bruce: can we drop this?

Clark: totally

Clark: so can i ask you something weird?

Bruce: sure

Clark: um

Clark: are you a virgin?

Bruce: no

Bruce: of course not

Clark: oh okay

Bruce: why do you ask?

Clark: because i am

Bruce: and you're planning on losing it?

Clark: NO

Clark: no

Clark: not YET anyway

Clark: i'm waiting for marraige first jeez

Bruce: oh right

Bruce: old fashioned sweet farm boy i get it.

Clark: ugh shut up

Clark: i was just curious since you've had so many girls and i wasn't sure if you've actually

Clark: y'know

Bruce: well i have but

Bruce: it wasn't anything real, y'know?

Bruce: i mean, i dated Selina but it wasn't anything "romantic" really

Clark: did you and her?

Bruce: hell no. that's gross.

Clark: oh

Clark: that's good.

Bruce: why's that?

Clark: no reason

Bruce: sure

Bruce: it's almost six you should be going

Clark: yea but

Bruce: ?

Clark: okay i need to get something off my chest

Clark: Bruce

Clark: the reason i haven't told you who the poem was for is because

Clark: because it wasn't for Lois or any other girl

Clark: it wasn't for a girl in general

Clark: it was for you

Clark: and the reason why is

Clark: is because all of these years, Bruce

Clark: i've been in love with you


End file.
